


Dating Undyne

by morefishplease



Series: Comfy Fish Stories [41]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Cute, Dating, F/M, Sex, Swimming, Swimming Pools, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 08:15:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10715649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morefishplease/pseuds/morefishplease
Summary: A series of scenes from the start of the reader's relationship with Undyne.





	Dating Undyne

August 3

When you’re leaving the pool you can feel the fish’s eyes on your back and you blush slightly, keep your gaze resolutely forward, don’t look back at her. You’ve seen her staring, seen the way she looks at you. You’ve recreated that same look (that same body) in bed at night, eyes shut tight, feverishly willing Undyne’s lithe frame into your dreams. You haven’t had a crush this bad since high school; you practically eat and breathe Undyne now. You daydream at work, thinking of those bright-red curls, those paler red danger spots around her eyes, those flowery pink gills, those hips eyes breasts thighs ah! You can’t get her out of your head.

Your days are daydreams now, always rushing the hours down until you can slip from work like an octopus, go home and get changed, go to the Y to swim. She’s always there in her lifeguard chair, supremely disinterested, staring around waiting for someone to start drowning so she can finally ease down, dive into the pool, scoop them from the water like a mother cat grabbing its kitten by the scruff of its neck, squeeze the water from their lungs, go back to lounging, conserving energy. Between laps you drink in the long slender lines of her body, the way it curls inward on itself, rippling with muscle, the way it curves outward in the right places to drive you nearly crazy. Oh, boy, you’ve got it bad!

One day while you were resting (staring at Undyne, that is) she looked over at you, met your eyes. Hers, bright gold, alluring as Eldorado, narrowed and you were unable to look away, hypnotized like a mouse before a snake. She stared at you and you stared back and eventually she blinked, broke the spell. You dove back in, kicked furiously to try and drive the blush from your cheeks.

On your way out that day you left the changing room and someone smacked into you roughly, pushed you back against the wall. What a hit! A head taller than you but slim as a knife, and you were about to say something when she whipped her red mane around fixed you with the same stare.

“Watch where you’re going, punk,” Undyne told you, and you gulped. She walked backward, leaned against the door to the ladies room. A smile whipped across her face like fractured ice but it was so warm and blameless that you stuttered, started to speak - but she was gone. One thought flooded your mind: ‘she knows.’

You’re thinking about Undyne as you change back into your street clothes. It’s starting to get cold outside; soon it’ll be snowing and then they’ll turn the heater in the pool up a few degrees and it’ll be even nicer. Between that and Undyne you’ll probably get heatstroke.

On the toilet you ponder what it’d be like to date Undyne. You’ve replayed that little snatch of conversation over and over again, listening to her imagined voice grow richer and throatier with each mental retelling, ran your hands over every inch of her imagined body. You can delineate in your mind the precise angle her ribs taper into her waist then where her waist presses out again to her hips; you’ve weighed her breasts in your hands and imagined them thick and full and beautiful, but you can’t imagine what she must act like if she loves someone; does she leave them notes? Cook them dinner? Watch them while they swim…?

These ruminations make somewhere deep inside your chest hurt, and you know that there is pain waiting at the end of the road you’re starting down, but you can’t stop yourself.

You open the door, push outwards into the hallway, not paying particular attention, and collide with a magnificent pair of bikinied blue breasts. You stagger back, flatten yourself against the wall, raise your eyes –

You trace your gaze up her thickly-muscled legs, linger on the small gap between them, up her fine, flat stomach, crunch of abs, breasts that beg you to stop and linger on them for a moment, a thin neck but muscled like a bull, a smug grin plastered on her mouth, golden eyes shining.

“Hello, sprat,” Undyne hisses, and you gulp for the second time.

“U-Undyne,” you manage to stutter, and she raises an eyebrow.

“So you know my name,” she says, and you marvel at how rich her voice is. It gives you the distinct sensation of a cat playing with a mouse, it has the same sort of amused-bored sensation in the way it curls around you like spiked velvet. “That saves me some work.”

“W-what d-“

“You and me,” she growls, peering down at you, leaning forward against you, one hand on the wall above. Her breasts are dangerously close to your face and you are making a deadly effort not to look down, to keep your eyes fixed on hers. She smells overpowering and addicting, like pepper and sugar mixed together, and as she breathes her gills oscillate, bulge in and out of their slits, hypnotizing. “This Friday. After your swim.”

“Huh?”

She rolls her eyes at you and you can feel yourself starting to blush.

“We’re going on a date, stupid.”

Okay, you’re definitely blushing now. Undyne flicks over you up-down and you feel a little like you’ve just had an x-ray. She stands there for a moment more, flashes you another dazzling smile, and all you can see is a glimmer of teeth. Your heart is beating very fast and as she turns, walks down the hallway, you call after her –

“Hey, uh, Undyne?”

A glance back.

“Yeah, nerd?”

“I’m coming in earlier on Friday,” you tell her, a little nervous. “At four.”

She stares for a moment, then smiles again. “Thanks,” she says, and her voice is so warm that you feel like you’re melting. Then she’s gone.

It’s a long time till Friday, you think.

 

▪ ▪ ▪

 

August 6

While you’re changing back into street clothes you feel a flutter of nervousness in your stomach and stomp it down internally, tell yourself there’s nothing to worry about. There is such a delicious excitement coating the back of your throat, making your jittery. All through your swim you and Undyne kept exchanging secret glances, and each time your heart did a little flip in your chest, made you miss a stroke. When you got out you saw her get down off her chair, pad off to the women’s changing room. You tried very hard to keep your eyes off her ass but you couldn’t help it, and she saw you looking. When you managed to tear your gaze away she was grinning, sharp, smug. She smacked her behind lightly before she vanished into the changing room and you swallowed hard, tried to clench the blush back down into your blood vessels, failed miserably.

You’re sitting there on the bench, shirt off still, eyes closed. One of the things you like so much about swimming is the smell; the chlorine, the acrid smell of the water – that’s odd, though, there’s something sweet and sharp wafting through the room now –

“Nervous?”

Undyne’s voice whipcracks and you jump. Your eyes fix on her, there in her gym slip, dark stockings, eyes like heaven, flashing. She observes impassively, small smile curling one corner of her lip up, sharply-pointed canine poking between her lips like a tiny pearl.

“This is the men’s changing room,” you say, and she shrugs.

“So?”

“Uh – “ you begin stupidly, and she shrugs, looks around.

“I don’t see any men in here,” she says, eyes flicking back to you, and you can feel her gaze like a laserbeam tracing a line of skin cancer up your naked chest. You feel yourself blush again (those hearty corpuscles in your cheeks have certainly been getting a workout as of late) and you start to say something, but Undyne interrupts. “Get your shirt on, let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” you ask. She shrugs again.

“You’ll see.”

 

▪ ▪ ▪

 

At Canton Park that evening there is the sort of last gasp of celebration of summer, before things get cold and windy and nobody wants to go out any more. They put fires on pikes out over the water and the groundskeeper goes out in his old canoe and sets them alight at dusk, and there are performers, food carts, things like that. It’s a decently far walk from the Y but Undyne drives you at a heavy pace; her long legs outstrip yours easily. You try to walk side-by-side with her but she casts you a sidelong glance, accelerates. Instead you content yourself to linger a few paces behind, staring at the impression her ass makes in the long sheer fabric of her shirt.

“Are you staring, sprat?” she asks over her shoulder, barely taking the time to glance back at you, and you raise your eyes hurriedly. You can see the very corner of her grin before her head snaps forward, tosses back haughtily. You think you detect a light chuckle.

“No,” you say, somewhat defensively, and Undyne stops, turns, pins you against the wall. The motion is so fast that you don’t have time to react, and the brick digs into your back painfully. You let out a little noise; Undyne’s face is impassive, neither smug nor angry, but her eyes narrow as she peers at you carefully.

“I can tell if you’re lying, you know,” she says. “Were you staring?” she asks again. There is only a moment of hesitation on your part.

“Yes,” you tell her, resolving not to be afraid, and you know that this is the right answer for her face breaks open in a wide grin and she releases you immediately, keeps walking.

“Good answer,” she says, unable to keep the thick smugness from her voice, and you roll your eyes, hurry to catch up.

 

▪ ▪ ▪

 

The park is already starting to get crowded when you get there. You stand alongside Undyne, take in the crowd. “Lot of people,” you murmur, and she nudges you in the side lightly.

“I thought it’d be fun,” she says, and her voice is much softer, much more honest. She must be distracted, you think. You look over and see her too surveying the park. “Peoplewatching, you know?”

“Right,” you tell her. Neither of you seem to particularly want to step through the gates, but you bite the bullet, reach down and take Undyne’s hand – spreads open in shock first then clenches tightly around yours – and pull her forward with you into the swirling crowd.

 

▪ ▪ ▪

 

Oh, what a night it is! You press yourselves between the mess of people, keeping a tight grip on Undyne so as not to lose her – although how could you? She towers a head above most people there, and her coloration turns heads even as she glances around, seems to shrink into herself. When she sees you looking she grins toothily, fearless, winks at you broadly and you smile back. You catch up to each other in the crowd and perch up on your toes to whisper into Undyne’s finned ear, but Undyne bats you down, points. Ahead a mime has formed his invisible box against the crowd. You watch for a moment and Undyne presses against you. Her warmth is exhilarating; she feels like a space heater, her skin is the same level of white-hot shock, but it grows on your and soon your slipping your hands around her waist, running a finger over her bare midriff. She lets you but growls in your ear as you’re walking, something wordless, the same thing a mother bear says when her cub is bothering her.

You hear the ringing of carnival bells and see that one of those test-your-strength machines is ahead. You gesture to it with your chin and Undyne grins wordlessly. Your eyes meet and you’re both thinking the same thing, and the knowledge of this makes you both smile with pleasure. Undyne’s eyes flash like burnished bronze and you reach out, take her hand. She bends down to hear you, thinking you want to tell her something, but you kiss her on the cheek instead. She freezes very delicately, like a butterfly has landed on her, and when she draws back she is faintly blushing on her cheeks and around her gills. You have never felt more like a woman in your life, but Undyne circles her grip around your waist, squeezing you gently into her, and you can feel the big fish smiling as you press forward toward the machine.

“Test your might!” the barker calls and Undyne steps forward proudly. She flexes for you, glancing back, and the barker raises an eyebrow. “Which prize will you play for?” he asks after he has counted her coins, and Undyne beckons you forward. You look over the cabinet, tap your finger on your chin, make a show of it. Undyne bumps you with her hip.

“Make a choice, sprat,” she tells you, and you point to the stuffed fish. She rolls her eyes, takes the proffered hammer. She hefts it in her hand, spins it around a little, grins at you. “Watch this,” she says, plants her feet, takes a practice swing. Then she leans back, centers her weight, drives herself forward. A loud clang as the hammer connects; a louder clang as the bell rings.

You walk away holding hands, one (two?) fish richer. Undyne throws an arm around your shoulder, draws you close. You look up at her, nuzzle her gently, and she runs a hand over your hair. “You like showing off, don’t you?” you ask, and Undyne shrugs.

“A little, I suppose,” she says. “Want some ice cream?”

Undyne’s favorite flavor, you discover, is pistachio. You sit there licking at your cones, watching Undyne’s rough, spiky tongue decimate hers out of the corner of your eye. You try to keep your mind from wandering but it’s impossible. What do those little fleshy spikes feel like, you wonder; are they soft or hard? Like a cat’s tongue –

Undyne’s tongue curls up, flattens itself over her ice cream broadly, lustfully, and you look up, your eyes meet. You see yourself reflected in them and wonder what Undyne sees when she looks at you. “Cat got your tongue?” she asks, rough voice rolling in waves over you, and you roll your eyes, say it’s nothing. She smirks regardless; even if she doesn’t know what you were thinking about she knows you were thinking about her.

 

▪ ▪ ▪

 

You’re standing at the waterfront with Undyne when they light the fires. There is a cheer from the crowd and Undyne crosses her arms, stares out across the water. “I’ve never actually been to one of these before,” she tells you.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “I thought it’d be a bigger deal.”

“That’s how these things are, usually,” you say, looking over at Undyne. One of the fires is perched perfectly, reflecting in her eye, and you stare. “You think they’ll be better than they really are, so you build it up in your head. Then when you’re there, it’s lame.” Undyne looks over at you and her expression is the gentlest you’ve seen her wear yet. Her shirt has slipped down a little and you can see her shoulder; there is a scattering of light-blue freckles across it, like a dusting of clouds far away on the horizon.

“Are you having a good time?” Undyne asks, and her voice is soft and throaty. You reach out and take her hand and she struggles not to smile.

“This is the best date I’ve ever been on,” you tell her quite seriously, and she blushes in pleasure, looks down at her hands demure as the Nile. While she’s distracted you lean in, find her lips, brush them gently with yours. Undyne knits her fingers into your hair, draws you into her. The kiss is like lightning: over too quickly. When you pull back Undyne is smiling; your eyes meet and hers have lost all their sharpness. Then you run your hand up her neck, see her bite her lip, and then you bite it for her.

 

You’re dangling your feet in the water next to Undyne when she looks over, recklessness in her eye. “This is boring,” she says, half-grin shining. “Want to see me put those fires out?”

“Are you going to anyway even if I said no?”

“Yes,” she tells you, smiles wider. She kicks her shoes off, dives into the water. You watch her go as best you can before she dives and only ripples mark where she had been, fracturing the moon’s steady face. You watch the nearest fire, see her pop up next to it. You wave to her and you can see the thin sickle of white bloom in her face as she smiles at you, then she lifts up a great handful of water, puts the fire out. On to the next, then, and the next, and soon people are murmuring next to you, watching the fires go out one by one. Even from this distance you can see Undyne’s grin getting wider, but it vanishes as there is the faint sound of sirens from the other side of the lake. When you look back there is only a series of ripples widening around the base of the torch. You take her shoes, walk down to the water’s edge a ways, down by the pier where there’s no people. Undyne surfaces near you, grinning widely. You shake your head, unable to keep from smiling.

“Daredevil,” you call her, and she steps out, wrings the hem of her shirt out. You stare unabashed and Undyne laughs, spins.

“Like what you see?” she asks, pressing against you. You can feel her breasts against your chest, the light prod of her nipples as they stiffen in the cold night air, but you knit your hands around her waist, keep your eyes resolutely on hers.

“I like it very much,” you tell her.

You hurry out of the park before the cops can get there. At the gate Undyne pulls you in again, kisses you, lets her wet hair fall over the two of you like a curtain.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you tell her.

“You could see more of me tonight,” she says, expression neutral, eyes flicking over you top-to-bottom again. You shrug, smile sweetly.

“Not on the first date,” you tell her, and while she is biting her lip in mingled frustration and amusement, you turn and begin the long walk back home.

 

▪ ▪ ▪

 

On the way home Undyne finds herself grinning foolishly at everyone she passes. Most people shy away from her usually but her smile is so warm and inviting tonight that she gets a few smiles in return. She tries to stop but she can’t. She tries to skip but feels silly, stops, but then she gets so antsy that she says to herself, ‘oh, what the hell, Undyne,’ and skips the rest of the way home.

When she gets in she shuts the door quickly, shakes to herself, grins so hard her cheeks hurt, leans back against the door, closes her eyes, breathes sharply, regularly. ‘Okay, you dork,’ she tells herself, poking gingerly at the corner of her lip where it threatens to curl up again, set her grinning just as before, ‘get a grip, get a grip –‘

Undyne can’t get a grip. She has too much excited energy springing around her stomach, chest, arms, legs. She looks around, decides to clean.

Anyone who came to visit Undyne that evening, although nobody did or would have, would have heard something very strange as they waited on the front stoop, preparing to knock on the door or ring the doorbell – they would have heard Undyne singing.

“I feel pretty, oh so pretty, I feel pretty and witty and gaaaaay~” Undyne sings as she scrubs the kitchen floor, putting extra oomph into a puzzling red stain that looks like it might be spaghetti sauce. “And I pity any girl who isn’t me todaaaaaay, fa la la la la la la la la la~”

If anyone had knocked Undyne would have blushed so scarlet it would have looked like she’d been boiled. Her voice would have cut off like she’d been beheaded, and she’d have gotten up very slowly and soundlessly, gone and answered the door with a considerably more brittle and cold demeanor than normal. However, nobody did knock, and Undyne’s voice rises as high and hard as it can as she pours her energy, all her nervous excitement leftover from your date into it, until she squeaks a little and she coughs, stops.

Undyne lets out a big sigh, looks down at the still wet, floor, kicks her feet a little. “I really am happy, aren’t I?” she says. She runs a hand through her hair, tucks an errant curl back behind her ear.

When she goes to bed she smells like pine-sol, and the house is spotless from top to bottom. She undresses quickly, dives into bed, wraps her arms around her pillow, snuggles into it. She smiles in her sleep that night. Look at her, see how her scowl melts away while she’s asleep, see how her brow clears. See those laugh lines? The crinkles around her eyes? Undyne smiles in her sleep that night and squeezes the pillow closer. Look at her. She’s dreaming about you.

 

▪ ▪ ▪

 

September 2

“Undyneee –“

“What?” she growls, right in your ear, nipping at it lightly. Down below her hand slips further down your stomach; her fingers are poking at the waistband of your shorts –

“Where’s that hand going?” you ask her, leaning your head back against her chest, looking up at her. Your lips are so near that Undyne cannot help but lean down, kiss you, wrap your head up in her hands, press herself against you. Her hand skims back up your chest, away from your  groin, and you breathe a tiny sigh of relief (through your nose as your mouth is otherwise occupied).

“Nowhere,” she growls at you, rolling her eyes. She slips back down, lets her hands rest on your chest, leans her head back against the couch’s armrest. You can feel her heart beating through that titan ribcage of hers, and she shifts a little beneath you, pulls you closer against her breasts. Her hand traces up and down your cheek lightly. You keep your gaze fixed on the television. On the screen a very sweaty Sigourney Weaver hustles down a hallway, toting a big gun.

“Man,” you say, “that Ripley.”

“Hum?”

“Such a badass,” you mumble by way of explanation, and you feel Undyne growl more than hear it, a low rumble in her chest. She knows you’re trying to make her jealous, trying to tease her, but even the knowledge doesn’t disarm the barbs you fling – lightly, ever lightly, but still you wonder when you will reach her breaking point. You’ve caught her staring at you sometimes, perched near the wall, peeking around to make sure you don’t see, curiously hungry look on her face, fangs sharp and white as ever. The expression passes when your eyes meet, of course, but the glassiness and imperceptibility in her eyes before they clear sticks with you. “Shark eyes,” you call her once, and she blushes with pleasure, tells you a number of shark facts that you did not know and do not remember.

You watch the rest of Aliens in silence. At the end Undyne hugs you tighter, flips you around so you’re on top of her. She ruffles your hair and you grin at her. Slowly a sly smile creeps across her face and you raise an eyebrow.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask her, and she shakes her head.

“Nothing at all,” she tells you, kisses you, slides out from beneath you and pads off to the kitchen. You watch her go with a tightly-bitten lip, staring at the long graceful lope of her legs, the way her back curves inward when she knows you’re staring at her, putting on a show for you. She glances back at you, eyes crinkled with pleasure.

“I’ll get you eventually,” she says, very softly.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

 

▪ ▪ ▪

 

September 6

When you wake Undyne is still asleep. Her hands are curled tight around you, knitting against your ribs. Her other hand is resting lightly on your stomach, the tip of one finger slipped into your boxers. You disengage her from you lightly, trying to keep her asleep, but Undyne stirs as you are moving her hands, grabs you, pulls you back into her sleepily.

“Good morning,” she says in a tiny voice, and you are filled with such boundless love in that single shining moment that you turn around, bury her in a flood of kisses. Her eyes pop open in mild shock but she acquiesces gently, kisses you back, teeth slick against your cheeks. Her scent gets stronger after she’s slept and when you wake up like this it feels like you’re entirely surrounded by her; her muscles press against you, she’s so warm and tight and comfortable that you feel like if you close your eyes you’ll just go back to sleep nestled against her breasts, stay there for a thousand years. When you open your eyes you see Undyne grinning toothily at you. She licks her lips, narrows her eyes, and you are suddenly acutely aware of a pressure against your groin.

“What’ve you got there, sprat?” Undyne asks breathily and you start to say something but Undyne thrusts again, rubbing herself against your morning wood through her panties and the words lose themselves somewhere on the way up your throat. Although Undyne’s skin is warm already, true, the burning pit between her legs defies belief; it’s like she’s running a hot coal up and down you, and the feeling is pleasant, though intense. You let out a little groan of desire but temper yourself.

“Undyne, don’t –“ you begin, but her hand covers your mouth, blocks out the rest of your words. Undyne has wrapped herself around you, tried to get as close to you as she possibly can, and as she works herself up and down your raging erection, as you grow increasingly aware of the musky dampness spreading down there, she whispers in your ear –

“Give me this, sprat,” she hisses, sibilant and needy and with an uncanny note of desperation buried somewhere deep in the bottom of her throat. “At least give me this,” she repeats, and what else can you do? You nod and she lets out a little moan, buries her face in your shoulder, arches her back as she increases the tempo of her thrusts. You run your hands over her back, trace your fingernails up her spine, and are rewarded with a little shudder, a little nip at the base of your neck. When she comes she lets out a long hot breath across your chest and shakes, groans long and low and sweet. You remain entangled like that for a long while, feeling the oozing wetness seep over your cooling erection, until you finally resolve to go to the bathroom and clean yourself off.

“Undyne,” you say, but she lets out a little snore. You shake your head, smile in spite of yourself, put your arms back around her. It can wait, you think. This is more important.

 

▪ ▪ ▪

 

September 9

“Hey dork,” Undyne says, voice curling around you like an anaconda, dragging your eyes out of your book and up to her voluptuous ass, which she presses towards you, hands on hips. “I need your opinion.”

When you scrap your eyes up her back, you see she is grinning rather smugly at you, and you raise an eyebrow.

“On what?”

She nods back towards her behind. “Do these panties make my ass look fat?”

You roll your eyes. “Undyne –“

“Answer the question, sprat.”

“Hum. Yes?”

“Okay, good.” She reaches back, pats her ass lightly. “You like?” she asks, and you roll your eyes.

“Of course I like, fishstick.”

“I’ll be in the bedroom if you need me,” she hisses, pads off back there, puts an insolent roll to her hips because she knows you’re watching. When the door clicks shut you roll your eyes, return to your book.

 

▪ ▪ ▪

 

Inside the bedroom Undyne surveys herself in the mirror smugly, peers back at her ass. ‘Yes,’ she assures herself, ‘I do look good. For sure.’ She cups a breast in one hand, squeezes lightly, grins at herself. Then she slips one strap of her bra down, practices her most winsome look in the mirror a little, then lays down on the bed, waits for you to come in.

 

▪ ▪ ▪

 

 

Twenty minutes later you hear the bedroom door open. Undyne sticks her head out. Her fins are drooping, you notice, and her eyes are a little needier than you’re used to, little consuming sparks litten in their depths. “Hey,” she calls. “Don’t you need me?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Umm…not presently.”

Undyne sulks over, plops down on the couch next to you. She nestles into you, rests her head on your shoulder. You see her eyes scanning your book and you both read for a moment.

“That’s not what I meant,” she says quietly.

“I know,” you tell her, equally quietly.

“So what’s the problem?”

“There’s no problem.”

“I have a problem.”

“What’s your problem?”

Undyne mumbles something. “What was that?” you ask and she rolls her eyes, lays a hand on your chest, waits until you’re looking right at her, into those eyes like churchgold, immaculate and coveted.

“Why don’t you want to sleep with me?” she asks, and you sigh, start to say something, but Undyne is already talking over you, voice low and husky with suppressed frustration. “I can’t believe it. I’ve teased you and tricked you and –“

“Undyne.”

“- I’ve seen the way you look at me, I know you want it –“

“Hey. Undyne.”

“- and I just need it so baaaaad,” she whines, “you don’t get it –“

You reach out, take her head in your hands, run your thumbs lightly over her fins. She stops, bites her lip lightly, and you feel her fins frill out beneath your fingers; she loves the sensation when you do that, so it’s always a good distraction. While she’s trying to get back on track you lean in, kiss her. You run your tongue lightly over her teeth and she prods it gently with hers, then slips hers into your mouth as well. The fleshy spikes along her tongue always send chills up your spine when she rakes them across the roof of your mouth, and you shudder a little, feel a suppressed smirk twitch her lips upward. When you break apart Undyne plucks a string of saliva from between your mouths, grins at you softly, in spite of herself.

“You’re a good kisser,” she tells you.

“You are too…somehow,” you tease, and she punches you lightly, right in the ribs.

“You remember what I told you when we started dating?” you ask her, and her smile dims. She mutters something, avoiding your gaze. “Huh?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“What was it?”

“If I really liked you, I’d wait,” she grumbles, eyes downcast.

“Do you think you can do that?”

“Yeah,” she nods, “but I don’t want to.”

Her voice is so despondent that you lean in, kiss her lightly on her mottled-blue cheek. “Can I tell you a secret?” you ask, and some of the amusement returns to Undyne’s voice as she raises an eyebrow, frills out her fin toward you.

“What is it, sprat?”

“I don’t want to wait either,” you whisper, and Undyne’s eyes flicker with amusement.

“You’re awful,” she tells you, but she is smiling wide and hard, taking the venom out of her words. You nuzzle your nose against her cheek and she kisses you lightly, on your face, neck, chest, holds you tight enough to drive the breath from your lungs. “I’m never going to let you go,” she purrs, and you relax into her like a tidepool drowning itself into the sea.

 

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September 10

When you get done with work you head straight for Undyne’s house, as has become your habit. You know the way by heart now, a fact that you shared with Undyne with mild amusement when you realized. She tried not to smile, bit her lip too hard, started bleeding. Oh, laughs! And it is with these thoughts in your head and a smile on your face that you open the door and walk right into Undyne, standing there leaning against the wall, ultracool, widening grin spreading across her face as you stagger back, catch yourself on the doorframe. There is a moment of frozen silence as you stare up her long legs, rippling with taut anticipation, linger on her best pair of panties, up her flat, tight stomach, even up past her soft, pale breasts. When your eyes meet it is like peering into infinity, and as you hesitate, not sure what to say, Undyne strikes. She hoists you up, nuzzles at your cheek lightly, purrs a brief ‘o sprat I’m happy to see you’ then closes your mouth with hers and for a moment you are incapable of thinking anything at all, just of the way Undyne’s lips and tongue taste, the way her claws are digging lightly into your back as she holds you there, presses you against the wall to maintain her grip, of the way she has already started to snake her way up the back of your shirt –

When you are both quite out of breath Undyne finally draws back from you, lets you gasp the air back into your lungs. Her face is flushed and brilliant, and she sweeps you up into her arms, carries you back to the bedroom, kicks the door shut.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” she confesses, flinging you onto the bed. You roll, come to a rest.

“What are we going to do on the bed?” you ask innocently as she clambers over you, unhooking her bra in one liquid motion, letting the useless fabric fall free. You run a hand up her side, feeling how feverishly warm she is, feeling how quickly her breaths are coming, cup one breast in your hand, flick a thumb over her nipple. Undyne’s grin widens and she sits back, perching perfectly above your groin, wiggling her butt into you.

“I’ll give you one thing,” she says, sliding your shirt off, running her hands over your bare skin (the feeling is slick and warm, and she lets her claws trail over you, leaving tiny red marks tracing after her hands), “the anticipation did make this a lot better.”

Undyne kisses her way down your chest, and you grab a big fistful of her hair, feel her gasp, glare up at you with a lustful eye. She pulls your shorts down, stares at you, licks her way up your hardon. You can feel the spikes flatten themselves against you and you tug her into you eagerly, feel her chuckle, but her mouth is too full for any witty retort.

You spend three hours in blissful concupiscence, drowning yourself in the bottomless pool of Undyne’s libido. It has all blurred together for you; all you have now are brief mental snapshots of your debauched pleasure. You remember the way Undyne tastes, thick and strong and curiously addicting, the way she ground herself deeper into your face as you sped your tongue in tight circles around her engorged clit. You remember Undyne bent over before you, two fingers plunged deep into herself, murmuring sweet urgings to you as you thrusted your hardon against her over and over until she couldn’t take it, grabbed you tightly, plunged you deep into her waiting slit as you let out a mutual groan of agitated pleasure. You remember Undyne on top of you, face inches from yours, bucking her hips as she rode you into oblivion. You remember the precise way her face contorted when you finally hit the perfect spot deep within her and sent her twitching into ecstasy, convulsing herself around your hardon and sending you pouring into her with a deep groan and a moment of brief nirvana. You remember Undyne flopping off of you, too exhausted and blissed-out to do anything but cling to you tightly and ride out the aftershocks, twitching against your side. You remember her reaching down between her legs, feeling herself, hissing somewhat proudly in your ear that you filled her up, sprat, I can feel it everywhere~ and something in the way she says it makes you hard again and she laughs and laughs.

When you wake it is some indeterminate time at night. Undyne nestles deeper into you in her sleep and you lean down, kiss her on the forehead. Her eye cracks open, focuses on you. “I can still feel you inside me,” she murmurs, and you feel yourself blushing. You wrap yourself tighter around Undyne and she purrs, clings to you tighter. “Not bad, sprat,” she mumbles against your chest. “Not bad at all.”

With Undyne’s heavy, warm, sweet-smelling weight in your arms, letting out little growly snores as she slips back into slumber, you find yourself growing sleepy again. As your eyes shut you feel Undyne clutch at you reflexively, in the middle of some dream. “If I could go back,” you think, “maybe I wouldn’t make her wait,” but then you have fallen asleep entirely and further speculation is meaningless.

**Author's Note:**

> Another special. I'm pretty fond of the first half of this, I think the whole scene at the park is pretty beautiful...if I'm allowed to be a little conceited. The latter half is decent as a sort of prelude to the same playful attitude you get to see with Brill later, but I think it's a little predictable. 
> 
> The whole thing about the fires in the little baskets or whatever is basically Waterfire from Providence, RI, which is basically the same thing. Everyone in Rhode Island hypes it up as the coolest thing ever but when you actually go and see it yourself it's kind of lame.


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